LABYRINTHS - FOUR

I woke early the next morning. If there was no Catholic church nearby, it meant I had to head to Parakou for Mass. The first Mass there began at 7:30am. That was the English Mass. Later ones were in the local language usually. I thought she’d be up too, and might have to drop me... if she wasn’t a Catholic herself.

I went up to her room and knocked. She answered the door with red eyes. Like the eyes hadn’t known sleep. And she was in no way dressed for church.

                “You were right,” she said.

                “Good morning,” I said.

                “Oh, I’m sorry,” she rubbed her eyes.“Good morning.”

                “How are you today... Did you sleep well?”

                “I couldn’t...” she said, “You were right.”

                “Right? Right about what?”

                “About my life...”

                “Oh!” I cut her, “that’s hardly the topic for this morning, ma’am.”

“OK,” she said. “So what is?” she asked coyly, staring into my face.

“You a Christian, a Muslim, or what?” I asked her.

She laughed a dry laugh.

                “I’m Christian. Why?” she said.

                “It’s a Sunday morning... just in case you haven’t noticed?”

                “Yeah,” she said, “I don’t think I can make it to church today... if that’s what you’re driving at.”

                “But why, lady?” I sounded concerned.

                “I just...” I didn’t allow her finish.

                “In any case... whatever your reason, I’m not the one you owe an explanation.”

                “I know. It’s God, right,” she stated rather than asked.

                “Nope!” I said, and she was taken aback.

                “Who then?” she inquired.

                “Two people: yourself, one; and members of your church... ‘cuz church is a commitment. It’s like a battalion of soldiers, and if you’re the chink in their armour then you need to be sorry. They’re better off if you were actively out than passively in. Because sometimes a soldier needs to undertake a deadly mission, and entrusts his life to his colleagues who owe him the duty of protection... of providing cover for him. You see that... And then, secondly, you owe yourself an explanation too: ...why are you... rocking your own boat? Why are you breaking your own rules? You decided you’d be a Christian, why are you getting in your own way? Why can’t you do the things you set out to do? Don’t you trust yourself enough to obey you? To do what you ask you to do? Can’t you replicate the success you have in business in other areas of your life? Did you climb the ladder of success by second-guessing yourself? Is that how you achieved all these? Then I should be a billionaire! If ye don’t trust yourself, trust me while this exercise lasts, and do what I tell you to.

Now, about religion, I can’t decide for you. Decide what you want to do, and by God do it! There’s no room for lukewarmness... you’re either hot or cold. It is established that unseen forces govern the universe; to stand a chance, you need to align yourself to one sector of the supernatural, be it good or ill. But don’t just stand in the middle when Good is engaging Bad in an eternal combat, you might get hit by a stray bullet, dear.”

I paused awhile to catch my breath.

“I thought you would be disposed to take us to church, but apparently you’re not. So I’mma find my way. Ciao!”

On my way down she called out,

                “You gotta loosen up a lil, doc. Take things a lil easy with me, aight!”

That meant she wanted us to walk together, but she had to walk up, and not drag me behind into the mud where she’d been all this while... emotional mud.

I walked back to my room. I definitely couldn’t make it for this Mass. It was 9am’s now, or 10:30 even. I sensed her bustling about the house. Perhaps she’d changed her mind and was getting ready to go to church. O yeah! But we don’t judge by the sudden change, we gauge the strength of will. But it was sure good to see her cooperating. As it was good breeding to bow out when the ovation was loudest, I dissolved out of the house without her knowledge... and walked down the lane.

Not needing to practice what I preached, I ended up not going to church. I couldn’t make it. So I passed. I went to Parakou and reunited with my circumstantial friends. They bombarded me with questions and I told them I met with a World Cup pal and stayed at his place. I stayed at our shanty abode there, condescending magnanimously. We continued to cope as before... for five days, until I disappeared again and, this time, with my bag.

I got back to the office on Friday evening. Office for me was my patient’s residence. She was in, but it seemed as though she wasn’t. After her brief encounter with me she had retreated further into her shell. And, usually, the one you’re missing is the only one who can bring you good cheer. Plus, the sad thing about breaking-up was, your ex breaks off with a part of you... for you were bound like Siamese twins. His or her presence later could still light a fire inside you.

If in your encounter with someone you’re the timid dog who hides his tail in-between his hind limbs, and that person were the wolf, his presence, days later, could still scare you.

                Many may have been her resolutions – like... never let any man in here ever again and so on – but, as soon as I stepped inside, they evaporated through the windows, and I held sway over her again. Because I was her physician, not her man. She coiled up like a pet on a couch in her living room, in full-kit joggers, with a pillow across her bosom.

                “Hey dear, you caught a cold?” I asked her when I got in unannounced, using my key at the entrance door.

She was surprised, and took some time before speaking.

                “What makes you think you can waltz in and out of my life like that... You talked about paying you... by this act do you now deserve to be paid?”

                “Correct me if I’m wrong, but we”, I emphasised the ‘we’, “talked about paying me.”

                “I thought you left?” she changed the subject. And I knew that, although it’d been only two days, and then a gap of five, she missed me.

                “Yes, I did,” I said. “For church.”

                “You’ve been in church all these days?”

                “For all you know, yes.”

                She managed a smile, and it seemed as though her face was going to crack. There probably had been no smile on that cute face for five days; so it had grown stiff. It was okay to cast your burdens on your physician and make him an integral part of your world, I thought. But, was it okay to do so very early on? Much as I thought not, I cherished the way events unfurled.

                “Well,” she said, “as for me, I came back on Sunday. Yes, I went to church, but unlike you, I came back the same day. That good enough for you?”

                “Hello! ‘Tis not about me!” I said to her.

                “O yeah,” she acknowledged, “it’s about me and my church right?”

I ignored that.

                “This place smells too clean,” I said mischievously. “Have you been cleaning?”

                “No,” she said.

                “Oh!” I said, “Then I guess it’s always like this then?”

                “Most of the time,” she said.

                “Well, then, I guess you need to be cleaning;” I threw a pillow at her... “And freshening;” I let out one... Then I ran and took cover behind one of the chairs. Soon, the entire living room was laden with the foul smell of my stomach air. She was embarrassed for me. She threw a pillow and I watched it fly past my head. She starred at me ruefully for a moment, and screamed amidst mirth:      

“Don’t you have shame? Don’t you have manners?!” Laughter was at the brink of her yells.

                “Hey lady,” I said, “leave shame and manners out of this and show me what you got!”

She threw another pillow and I ducked; and threw back, hitting her every time. She was still smiling, I knew, though she covered the low part of her face with one of the pillows I’d thrown at her. She was quiet. Then later she started to smile broadly. Then I perceived a superior smell wafting through the air, dealing knock-out blows to my own contribution – my own entry. I started to cheer and sing:

“Stand up! Stand up! For the champion, for the champion, stand up!” a couple of times; standing and clapping my hands. She was laughing uncontrollably on the couch. After singing, I sat and wondered how it was that she had fart at her beck n call. Then she asked me,

                “I win right?”

                “Yeah, sure!” I said, breathing at an increased pace. “And that’s due to superior food. You gotta feed me tonight... really feed me, and I suggest you be about it cuz it’s really critical. Meanwhile, I’mma go freshen up.”

                On my way she called out,

                “Doc.?”

                I half-turned; “Yeah.”

                “I’m glad you’re back.”

                “Is that right?” I said.

                “Yes,” she said, looking ever so supple.

                “Then that’s a positive sign for our scheme,” I said, refusing to be got.

We were staring each other in the eye, and I didn’t want to be fixated, so I said,

                “Dinner!” with my head gesturing towards the kitchen.

                “Yeah,” she said, and headed thither.

I slowly turned, weighing the moment....

                I knew this feeling... and under circumstances of commitment, it scared me. This was okay because it was a job. Back home in Nigeria, there was one who sprung forth to life this way whenever I was around. Kate. And she wanted to speed our lives to the end in one hour... saving no confessions, no fun, no joys, no games for later. It was her idea of love, that any and everything that was possible... that was felt, be said immediately. We’d been friends, and I learned this about her when I asked her to become my girlfriend. I thought that asking a girl out was a proposal for a journey to the land called love to begin. But for her it was different. When she accepted your proposal, then she already loved you like she’d loved you all her life, so that, even if a minute later you pulled out, you shattered her heart. For one thing I was glad: I worked out of town... It was like running away.

                Here now, in a matter of minutes, I had reinvigorated somebody’s world... like pouring water on hardpans – the dried, cracked mud that remain after a pond or lake dries up. I felt so benevolent, and resolved to carry out my mission to the latter – to heal the lady.

                After dinner, I told her all the tortoise stories I’d ever heard. Then the squirrel stories. Then the lion... Nigerian, perhaps, African folktales. I had to be talking, so she didn’t bring up the matter of her relationships and how bitter they’d been. This was the time and atmosphere for such talks, yeah. Perhaps she was unable to make any demarcation between a shrink and a love doctor.

At first she sat enthralled by my rich delivery of the stories. Stories she’d probably heard time and time again, I now refurbished and retold until they were sweet again. She particularly loved the story of the lion and the squirrel titled Cleverness is better than strength. Cleverness is better than strength, alright... I love the story too. Any day.

                Some people don’t know that, sometimes, silence is an important part of a conversation. They think that every gap, every opening must be filled with words; and when no words were said, the conversion was over. They’re not aware that the ability to share silence is rare among friends, and very much healthy and appreciated by those who know. When I was silent so we could assimilate all that had been said and share silence, she didn’t pick the cue, instead, she thought it was her turn to speak. I realized that, all night, she’d been itching to speak...

                “You know... Doc...” she looked distant, “sometimes I wonder why men have treated me so unfairly...”

I interrupted her,

                “Have you heard the story of the camel and the monkey?”

It took her sometime to answer.

                “No.”

I want to begin it and she interrupts.

                “You’re a bad conversationalist!” she nagged.

“Why?” I asked her in penitence.

“Why don’t you want me to talk?”

Now I took sometime before answering.

                “If there’s something I want tonight, it’s for you to actually talk...”

                “Then listen while I do...”

                “The moment you begin, you’ll find me listening...”

She tries to begin and I interrupt again.

                “But I don’t want you talking to me about your past; about how well or badly your dealings with men have gone. Honestly, I’d love it if you could spare me that history course. Try to talk about today, and what insights you think you’re gaining. One thing’s certain: after this is over you’re going to know which the right way to live is. And if you’re convinced it’s the way you’ve been living, then every man who has ever walked out of your life is wrong. And you know that your Mr. Right is simply tarrying. But if you find it’s not the way you’ve been living, then, you can make amends, and stand to regain everything or most of what you’ve lost. It’s called rejuvenation...” Staring straight into her eyes, I asked,“Are you okay with this, miss?” 

“I am,” she said softly.

                “Yeah, that’s nice ma’am... moreso, I’m not a medical doctor needing your medical history; nor am I a love doctor here to tell you how to or how not to let yourself love and be loved. I am your shrink, and I already have the data I need... Are we cool, Abbey?”

                “Yes, we are.” Softly.

                “Good. So go on with what you wanted to say.”

                “It’s nothing. You go on with what you wanted to say.”

                “Me? Was I saying anything?”

                “Yeah... the story of the monkey and the camel...”

                “The monkey and the camel?”

                “Yeah.”

                “The monkey and the camel?!”

                “Yeah, you had... introduced it...”

                “The monkey and the camel have no story together!” I said, wondering at the thought. And then I started to laugh, “The monkey and the camel! What a combination!”

Now she understood and, eventually, we shared that elusive silence.

                The next word spoken was some ten minutes later, and ‘twas me who broke the frigid silence.

                “Goodnight ma’am!” I said, and left for my room.

                On my bed I examined the sense in the goodnight move. It was still valid – even more so than when I first thought of it. I had to maintain a firm grip on the moments I shared with her. Let her every word, her every laughter, and every mood be dictated by me. But I didn’t know the gauge of her mind... like how much she could enjoy before she got bored... like when she’d start feeling dizzy and say she was going to bed... I had to be the first to leave, and my leaving had to mean the night was over for her. I was her daddy now!

It took a long time before I could sleep, so I just selected the appropriate playlist on my laptop, and, soon, my consciousness faded into oneness with the night. Still.